


Start Your Engine, Evans!

by a-less-ordinary-life (ALessOrdinaryLife)



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom, Evangers Fandom, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Daytona 500, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Missionary Position, One Shot, POV Second Person, Sexual Content, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALessOrdinaryLife/pseuds/a-less-ordinary-life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, it's scientifically proven that sex is a stress reliever, you know." you explain with a smirk. "Come here, Evans."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Your Engine, Evans!

"I can't do this."

Here are the first words coming to your ears when you enter the private trailer that the race organizers have put at his disposal, a cup of coffee – another one – in your hand. He is still pacing nervously from one end of the room to the other, his head hung. He had been all proud and excited when he told you, a few weeks ago, that he had been named grand marshal for the Daytona 500 and asked to say the most famous words in motor sports. And then, the "what ifs" started: "What if I look ridiculous?", "What if I screw up?", "What if I forget the words?", and so much more that you are not even able to remember all of them.

"Chris..." you sigh, "it's gonna be fine, you need to–"

"It's not. Millions of people are going to watch me, I'm going to mess it up and I'll look stupid and–"

"Okay, stop it!" you cut him off, "it's going to be _fine_ , Chris. Relax. Let it go. And, _no_ , don't you dare sing the damn song!" you warn with a smile.

He chuckles, then strides across the room to take you in his arms. You can feel his big strong biceps tense in your embrace. He will have a lot of anxiety to deal with in the coming weeks, starting with the Vanity Fair party and then with the Winter Soldier press tour. His hands are resting on your lower back, stroking it gently through your tight blue jeans. You step back for a minute to look up at him. His smell is everywhere around you, making you feel a little dizzy, his long-sleeved shirt is impossibly too tight for the huge frame of his body and _his eyes_... God, his gorgeous bright blue eyes are staring back at you and once again, you are completely under their spell.

"I'm glad you're here. It really helps."

You cup his face, running your thumbs along his cheeks.

"Breathe with me. It's going to be alright. You did a good job in the media center, don't freak out now. Keep breathing, okay?"

You smile at him, comforting, lightly rubbing his shoulders, and he leans forwards to kiss your forehead.

"You'll be the best grand marshal ever, you hear me? You're gonna go there, say the right words in the greatest way possible and rock it."

He nods calmly but the lump in his throat is still clearly visible. You capture his lips tenderly but he obviously doesn't relax in the kiss. All at once, a thought pops up in your mind as you cup his clenched jaw in your hands. You're suddenly kissing the breath out of him, nipping his bottom lip, teasing his pecs and abs with your fingertips. He groans when you break the kiss, leaving him panting.

"What are you doing?" he asks when he realizes that you are taking your jeans off.

"I'm doing my duty, Captain."

He raises his left eyebrow. Of course, he does, as always. And you love it.

"Well, it's scientifically proven that sex is a stress reliever, you know." you explain with a smirk. "Come here, Evans." you say and you notice his eyes going wide and dark with lust.

"Yes, ma'am!"

In no time, he lifts you and pins you to the wall, holding you firmly in the cage of his arms, kissing you passionately. And man, he can _kiss_. One hand slides up the length of your thigh and you can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, as he just leans into you. Your shirt is already gone when he starts sucking and biting down at your collarbone. Your hands are desperate, grabbing the back of his neck furiously. For a while, the two of you are nothing more than a needy, sloppy clash of lips and tongues. You press open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, tracing the line of his throat with your tongue every once in a while, loving the way he's moaning your name.

"Is your engine already started, baby?" you whisper low by his ear.

He chuckles at your pun but you know he can't hold back when you're speaking low and hot by his ear. You don't even wait for his answer and shamelessly rub at his crotch, feeling his growing erection through his pants, making him whimper. The noises he makes are music to your ears. You tug at his dark grey shirt, the light fabric giving in as your nails are unbuttoning the last two buttons of his collar and you just _rips_ it. He's kissing your cheek over to your ear and you bend your head backwards, granting him an easier access to your neck. His lips rest there for some time, working magic, sucking on your skin, then they move down to your chest. You're burning with desire and arousal. Your nipples are rock hard through your black lace bra and he has barely touched them. Damn, the things he is doing to you. You're already insanely wet for him. You moan louder than before when he buries his face where your breasts meet, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him closer to your body, so close that you're sure he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is too much, you need him...

"Chris... I need–"

He puts you down on your feet and, seriously, you're glad he's still holding you by the waist. You tug open his red belt, work his fly, pull down the waistband of his boxers to free his throbbing member.

"Fuck!" he hisses out when you finally touch him, easing the ache.

"My thought exactly."

Chris pulls you to him again, closing the gap between the two of you and kisses you hungrily, his tongue parting your lips to slip inside your mouth. He pushes you to the couch placed in the center of the room, his body hovering above yours. You toss your panties in a flash, biting your bottom lip as you look up at him. You want him. Bad. He presses inside you – _finally_ – and he starts thrusting, meeting your hips with each move.

"You're beautiful." he whispers, barely audible, before kissing that particular spot on your neck, perfectly aware that it drives you crazy. "So beautiful, baby girl. So good to me."

He goes faster, harder, burying himself deep into your core. He laces his fingers with yours and you feel that delicious hot wave rising from inside your lower abdomen as he slams in and out of you, like he belongs there – and he does. You're close, you need him to give it to you. You're moaning his name, louder and louder, squeezing his hand when he hits that sweet spot inside you. Before you know it, you are coming undone for him, sparks of pleasure spreading through your whole body. Your orgasm brings him over the edge too, leaving him panting against the crook of your neck, and he does his best not to crush you under his weight.

"Feeling better, big boy?" you ask, coming back from your high.

He just chuckles against your skin but you can feel his body relax and a smile curls at the corner of your lips. He gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and you place a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"I guess I need to put another shirt on..." he says, looking over the back of the couch, catching a glimpse of the mess you've done with the V-neck collar of the previous one.

"Well, until tonight." you mutter, with a coy wink.

"You're not even sorry, are you?"

Oh no, you're not.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write something in English - my native language is French - and this story hasn't been beta'd. Please, forgive me if there are mistakes. Also, this is the first time I write something kind of NSFW. Let me know about it! :)


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